


Passionfruit

by whintersoldiers



Series: Drake!Verse [2]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Angst, Co-Stars - Freeform, Confessions, F/M, Friends to Lovers, sort of an open ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whintersoldiers/pseuds/whintersoldiers
Summary: “Stay,” He begs like it’s that simple. The universe laughs as the airport announces the arrival of your flight. “You’re all I got,” He mumbles into the ground. You can’t look at him; you don’t, until he forces your gaze onto his with a gentle tug. “You leavin’ me too?”You don’t want to deny him but you grasp the handle of your Louis keepall and do anyway.





	Passionfruit

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Drake's Passionfruit, but also compatible with Signs by Drake.

“Hold on, hold on, fuck that!” Sebastian slurs from the rooftops, voice loud and steps louder as he wavers against the flat concrete. The stars twinkle down in mirth at the man, the moon sparkling brightly in tandem. “Relationships, commitment…? Fuck that shit.” Laughter bubbles up from your chest at his state, but at this point, the amount of champagne you’ve consumed would make you giggle at just about anything.

“Says the serial monogamist,” You manage between another sip of the Salon Blanc de something-or-other. French names aren’t your forte, and certainly not so when you’re this tipsy. But, the alcohol slides down your throat smooth as anything, and the Hollywood big shots that are hosting have spared no expense, so you might as well enjoy to your heart’s content. Sebastian groans from your right.

“Don’t be an asshole right now,” He says, finally deciding to flop down next to you on the one of the ornate leather seats. He makes a general nuisance of himself, and tugs you closer so he can bury himself into the softness of your stomach. There was a time when you would have felt insecure at the proximity, but all you find in yourself to do is bring your hand to run your nails along his scalp. He whines gently and pushes his nose further into the shimmering Saint Laurent piece you’d put yourself into for the party.

“I’m the best friend, remember? Strictly for comedic relief and the occasional snuggle. Asshole is practically written into my resume.” You remind him, earning a petulant huff in response. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but continue to comfort him, bringing your nails a little further down to scratch at what you can reach through the back collar of his midnight black suit. He’s ruining the crisp lines and his perfectly coiffed hair and you’re both going to receive an earful from his publicist if you leave the party looking like you'd gotten up to no good, but you don’t care. You figure he deserves a little leeway after a messy breakup that had marked the end of a two year relationship earlier in the night.

“Make an exception for me tonight. It’s been kind of rough.” He turns in your lap and lays his head flat so he can stare up into the night sky. He’s quiet for a moment, and you know he’s thinking about her. _Sophie._ You don’t think there will ever come a day where he won’t.

“I’ll always make an exception for you, blue.”

> _Listen, seeing her got ritualistic_
> 
> _Cleansin' my soul of addiction for now_
> 
> _Cause I'm fallin' apart_

He’s already shoving his phone into his pocket by the time you’ve placed one Louboutin into the room. You try not to sigh, smiling in greeting, and pretending like you hadn’t caught him staring at the lockscreen of her for the thousandth time. It’s been almost two months, but it looked like he couldn’t bring himself to change a goddamn picture on an iPhone.

It seems like as time passes, he gets worse. Misses her more, smiles less, lives less. If he notices you’ve noticed, he doesn’t say anything. Neither do you, and a voice from the back of your mind tells you there’s something toxic about it.

“She’ll want to talk about the nude scene,” You warn to Sebastian about the interviewer like he doesn’t already know, and like his publicist hadn’t already prepped him anyway. He plasters on a grin and the smile is real but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Therefore, it doesn’t count.

“Don’t worry, I only have good things to say about your tits.”

He stays true to his word when you two get onstage. Calls you the gorgeous co-star in the self-deprecating way that he does, talks about the passionate scene you two had filmed together with a pink on his cheeks and a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure you were happy to do it,” The interviewer says with a smirk. “What’s not great about naked women?”

You hate her. Hate the way vicious things spill from her mouth but she seems to have taken a liking to Sebastian since the _Winter Soldier_ press tour, so here you two were promoting your new movie and entertaining none other than Chelsea Handler herself on _Chelsea Lately._ And as predicted, she had asked about the nude scene because she’s a fucking menace and you wouldn’t have expected anything less.

You both tell her what every celebrity ever says about the nude scenes; it’s not nearly as sexy or glamorous or seductive as the cameras make it seem. Which is the truth. But, sometimes there will be a moment between takes when he’ll touch you for a moment too long that makes it impossible to believe it’s for the cameras.

She howls and snorts and moves on to ask about the break-up.

It’s common knowledge he’s single now, but no one knows anything but the _How_ and the _When._ Sebastian’s a private person, doesn’t quite like revealing nitty-gritty details so he keeps the recount of the break-up with his ex-girlfriend civil and short.

“Whether it’s a breakup, or a rough day at work, the one person I always go to is my mom,” Sebastian gushes, redirecting the conversation. Chelsea looks displeased at this, but is intrigued when he pulls his phone out. He clicks the home button and it comes to life displaying a lock screen of his arms wrapped around his smiling mother’s shoulders.

The crows _aww’s_ with Chelsea as the camera zooms in on the picture. His mother is beautiful, of course, and you can’t help but notice the resemblance in their smiles. A sheepish embarrassment grips you as you realize he had changed his lockscreen. 

There’s a challenge in his eyes when he looks back at you.

> _Yeah, tension between us just like picket fences_
> 
> _You got issues that I won't mention for now_
> 
> _Cause we're fallin' apart_

“You deserve better, okay? Someone… someone that loves you unconditionally.”

“I know.”

“You’ll find her. And, when you do, it’s gonna be amazing and perfect and beautiful even when it’s shitty.”

“I know.” His eyes are empty. You say nothing in response and just stare at him as he brings the cigarette up to his lips. You watch, transfixed, as his mouth settles around it. His lips juxtapose beautifully against the the brown paper of the cigarette. He makes a show of it, drawing the smoke in for longer than usual and releasing it slowly so your gaze stays captured. Knows you’re watching. “You make it sound easy.” There’s an accusation in his tone, and it causes you to recoil a little.

“I-”

“When was the last time someone broke your heart? Hell, when was the last time you gave someone the chance to?” He scoffs. “Your revolving door of men doesn’t mean shit if you’re not willing to let them hold your heart in their hand. Your past experiences in love should be irrelevant-- you can’t be a pussy when it comes to love.” He tries to be poetic when he’s bitter.

“Fuck you.”

“We’ve all got shit, sweetheart,” He shrugs, takes a long drag and stares off into the distance dramatically before he meets your eyes again. “It doesn’t matter if you stay away from love, and if I can’t stop chasing it. No one gets immunity from heartbreak.”

“I’m not staying away from anything,”

“One man fucks you over and suddenly you’re the heartless bitch that doesn’t need love. You’re giving some asshole too much credit. It’s a cliche.” You’re standing up before he can finish the last word. How _dare_ he make this about you and your past when he’s the one getting wasted in the dark. 

“You’re the expert in giving an ex too much credit, _Sebastian.”_ You spit his name like it’s acid, scalding the tip of your tongue. “Thanks for the psychoanalysis.”

“ _Shit,_ ” He sighs, and is quick to grab your hand before you can flee the scene. “I’m sorry. Stay. Please.” It’s not a question but his eyes are pleading anyway. You consider leaving for a moment as if you’ll ever be able to say no to him, but then you survey the dark room: the liquor next to his bed and the cigarette held delicately between his fingertips. You can’t leave him alone like this.

You take a seat at the foot of the bed with the bottle of vodka, staring out into the city view his hotel room provided. He peels himself away from the bed frame after putting the smoke out and reaches for you. You can’t say no. You end up with your back resting against the bedframe, right next to him with one of his hands around your waist and the other in your hair.

He noses up the column of your throat, whispering apologies. His voice is soft and your can feel the flutter of his lashes against your neck. Kisses the tendons in your neck, licks at the shell of your ear and softly sucks the skin behind your ear between his teeth.

You pull him closer.

> _Passionate from miles away_
> 
> _Passive with the things you say_
> 
> _Passin' up on my old ways_
> 
> _I can't blame you, no_

“You love me,” It’s a fact and he says it as such.

“You gonna pretend like it’s a surprise?” You say with a mindless quality to your tone he’s come to hate. The tone knows the feelings aren’t returned. “But, whatever. It doesn’t matter.” His eyebrows knit themselves together and there’s a hurt in his eyes like he can’t believe you would even say something like that. He claps your wrist in his fingers and pulls until you look at him.

“Of _course_ it matters,” He argues. The conviction and slight rise in his voice causes a few others in the airport turn and look. He pays them no mind, refuses to look anywhere but your eyes.

“You still love her,” You say simply, a frostiness in your eyes that he knows he put there. This time he looks away. “I hate you for doing this to me.” He nods like he knows. Cups your face and looks at you like he’s holding the world between his fingertips and you loathe the gaze, loathe the endless abyss of blue you once used to find serene.

Because you’re selfish. You can’t have only the gaze, the touch, and the honey-sweet words without having the rest of him.

“Stay,” He begs like it’s that simple. The universe laughs as the airport announces the arrival of your flight. “You’re all I got,” He mumbles into the ground. You can’t look at him; you don’t, until he forces your gaze onto his with a gentle tug. “You leavin’ me too?”

You don’t want to deny him but you grasp the handle of your Louis keepall and do anyway.

> _Listen, hard at buildin' trust from a distance_
> 
> _I think we should rule out commitment for now_
> 
> _Cause we're fallin' apart_

Seeing you plastered on the top of some gossip magazine, hand-in-hand with some nameless guy makes Sebastian’s coffee taste bitter. He snaps a picture.

_**Sebastian:** [Attachment sent.] ?_

_**You:**?_

_**Sebastian:** Okay._

He can feel your indifference seep through his phone, even though you’re tucked miles away in Barbados. You need the time, he knows.

The trip _is_ helping; the regular sun makes your skin practically resplendent with each copper and bronze hue shimmering with every turn of your body, hair natural and eyes bright. As a celebrity he knows cameras don’t always capture the truth, but there’s no mistaking the good your island trip had done for you; both physically and spiritually.

You look relaxed, and happy-- you’re _prospering._ Without him.

The thought makes his breath stutter.

> _Leavin', you're just doing that to get even_
> 
> _Don't pick up the pieces, just leave it for now_
> 
> _They keep fallin' apart_

He finds you snorkeling with a myriad of rainbow colored fish and a snorkeling mask that shouldn’t make you look _that_ cute. You splutter and almost choke on the air when you see him, walking on the cream colored sand tentatively with his fists shoved in his pockets like he’s just coming to say hello.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, unable to keep the shock out of your voice. He opens his mouth to reply, but it comes out throaty and dry and he has to clear his throat and refocus. Water drips down the cut of your jaw and your skin glistens in the Caribbean sunlight; it’s not his fault for being distracted.

“Wanted to… talk.” He says, snapping his mouth shut. A small smile forms on the side of your face.

“Phones exist you know.”

“Needed to see you.”

“Facetime and Skype: also a thing.” You challenge. He huffs and gives you a look. It’s a lot funnier now that he has a full beard. It makes your smile grow wider. “Alright, Mr. I’m-Gonna-Take-A-Plane-All-The-Way-To-The-Caribbeans-To-’Talk.’ Let’s talk.” You cross your arms and stare at him expectantly.

“Can we do it without the audience?” He scoffs, indicating toward the school of fish floating around your standing body. You laugh and nod, making your way out of the water. You were starting to prune anyway.

“I had a whole speech prepared on the plane ride here,” He begins once you’ve returned to your suite. “But, now that I’m here, I can’t… remember any of it.” He tongue swipes at his bottom lip quickly, a nervous tick of his you knew he hadn’t come to shake. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment, before starting over.

“I did love Sophie.” He confesses truthfully, and with that one sentence, you can feel every drop of relaxation leave your bones. “But, I fell out of love with her a lot sooner than you’d think.”

This was news to you.

He had never divulged the details of the breakup to you either, which you found strange as Sebastian didn’t really hide much from you, but you had always just figured he needed time.

“But, that doesn’t mean I was unaffected by the change. I was hurt. But… you are more to me than anything else. A break-up, Sophie, o- or any publicity bullshit. I know you love me, and I want you to know, that I do too. So fucking _much_ that sometimes I can’t breathe when you’re not around. But… I need time, because you deserve more than this. You deserve the best; you deserve me at my best.”

“You can’t do that.” You manage to splutter out, hating the way hot tears are brimming at your lashes. His face softens, and he comes closer.

“I’m sorry,” He’s telling the truth. “ _So sorry._ ”

“You can’t expect me to wait for you,”

“I’d never ask me you to do that. I just… I know why you left and all I want is for you to keep an open mind for the future. An open heart.” You let him place a soft kiss onto the side of your forehead.

He leaves that night.

> _Passionate from miles away_
> 
> _Passive with the things you say_
> 
> _Passin' up on my old ways_
> 
> _I can't blame you, no, no_

The next time you see him is the premiere. Your first glance makes your heart stop. He looks beautiful in a dark, rich blue suit that does wonders for his eyes and makes his pale skin incandescent.

He doesn’t see you right away, only turning his head when one of the photographers yell your name is a surprised panic. He whips his head around at breakneck speed, mouth falling open a couple inches and eyebrows raising in awe. He gives you a few minutes to pose by yourself for the cameras before approaching and slipping an arm around your waist easy as anything.

You both grin and smoulder at the crowd for a while longer before stepping off of the carpet slowly. You’re both silent as you reach a moment of privacy to speak.

“Trying to think of the right thing to say…” You begin nervously. He smiles softly.

“I missed you.” He starts. You mirror his smile. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

“Sebastian…”

“Just listen to me. You’re _it_ \-- and I have never been more confident in anything. I never once had to force my love for you, which isn’t something I can say for anyone else. It took me too long to see it and I know through all of it, it got tangled into a big fucking mess. But, you told me when I found the right person, that it would be perfect even when through big fucking messes. And, I’m standing here looking at you right now… and I can’t ever imagine wanting to look at anything else.”

“I’m ready.” He holds out one hand. “Are you?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t gonna post this but 1) i promised a drake!verse 2) i haven’t posted 3) i wish i cared enough not to post at 11 pm but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Unbeta'd.


End file.
